


Change Of Plans

by EggParty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: (Slightly), Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bestiality, Capture, Chains, Collars, Fluff and Smut, Forced Pregnancy, Gags, Handcuffs, Happy Ending, Knotting, M/M, Master/Pet, Mech Preg, Medical Kink, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sassy, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Torture, Yes amazingly it now has both, a small dollop of sassy drift, graphic birth, referenced injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggParty/pseuds/EggParty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turmoil gets his hands on Drift. The original plan of 'Kill Drift the traitor' becomes less attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gross and love to do awful things to Drift, please heed those tags. Anon asked for Turmoil/Drift and I did the most self-indulgent thing I could.
> 
> 2/22/16: added a new scene in ch2, fixed formatting!

“I’ve finally caught you.”

Drift’s fingers dug into the dirt, kicking his one still-free leg while the other was tethered, caught in a trap that Turmoil was reeling in. He huffed and clawed at the ground and kicked but eventually Turmoil had him. Big hands wrapped around his ankles and dragged him towards Turmoil’s ship. The same ship Drift remembered. Turmoil still had it after all this time and it had seen better days, the familiar dark ship that was once an attempt at home only looked like a cage, a monster ready to swallow him whole and never let him go. “Let me go!” Drift thrashed, trying to reach for Turmoil’s hands and missing by a mere inch or two.

Turmoil grunted as he tugged, grip tight enough to chip paint. “No. You’re coming with me and this time, Deadlock, you won’t ever leave.”

Drift tried to ignore the ache in his shoulders. He was bound by the wrists, hanging from the ceiling in one of the ship’s hallways and ankles were magnalocked together. Drift himself had put many in this same setup, he knew it was secure. All there was to do in the dark was relax and wait for an opportunity to arise. Turmoil wouldn’t leave him like this forever. Drift knew he had plans, and being left to hang until the end of days was too merciful for the Turmoil he knew.

It was too soon when Drift heard incoming footsteps. “Wake up, Deadlock.” He said, grabbing a finial roughly and forcing Drift to look at him. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life with me.”  
“Will it be short?” Drift asked, frowning hard.

“I was considering that.” Turmoil said. “However, I’ve decided on something longer. For now. You’re cooperation could shorten or lengthen your lifespan, not that I would call servitude a life.”

“A slave? Really?” Drift asked, squinting. “That never was your style.” Turmoil let go of his finial and both hands returned with a plain heavy metal collar that made him shiver when it was locked. “…Oh.”

“It will keep you on the ship.” Turmoil said. “I recommend not trying to leave. As fast as you move, your head might actually come off.” Turmoil forced his hand between his legs, fingers rubbing at the cables in the joints there.

“I didn’t, ngh, think you had this in mind for me.” Drift said, hips squirming a little. “I was expecting, gh, more death.”

Turmoil rubbed at the seams in Drift’s inner thigh. “So long as you’re mine, consider death a possibility.”

“Did me refusing to continue murdering with you upset you that badly?” Drift asked with bite to his tone as Turmoil continued touching him.

“You were good at what you did.” Turmoil started pulling at a seam to his modesty plating. “Don’t understand why you picked when you did to grow a conscious.”

Drift gasped as his armor pulled away, exposing his array, valve bared and spike poking out of its housing. “I think I’d rather die.” Drift grumbled, head rolled back as his hips twitched. “Let’s fight instead.”

“I’d put my own spike in your mouth, but I don’t trust you not to bite me.” Turmoil said, one finger rubbing his valve while his other hand rubbed the head of Drift’s spike.

“Good to see you’re still somewhat smart.” Drift grunted. He hated the warmth pooling in his frame, heavy and heady. This was supposed to only be for Ratchet, or Rodimus. Not Turmoil and his hands that until now had only killed.

They shouldn’t be capable of pleasure. He doesn’t deserve that skill.

Turmoil ignored him, instead rubbing his head until his spike was fully erect and spreading his lubricant around his opening. Hand around the base of his spike, Turmoil pushed two fingers into Drift’s valve.

“Hah! Nghah, gah. Ahnnn...” Drift’s optics shut hard, he panted and squirmed in his bonds while Turmoil moved in and out of him.

“Loosen up,” he said, curling his fingers. “if it hurts me to frag you, you’re going to have more problems added onto this situation you’ve put yourself in.” Drift tried to block out Turmoil, the sounds of his wet valve or the hand secure around his spike. He tried to pretend it was Ratchet, and he got close so long as Turmoil was silent.

It didn’t last long enough. Drift moaned, and he suddenly dropped heavily to the floor. Looking up and seeing Turmoil had dropped him, he awkwardly tried to get up with bound wrists and ankles. Turmoil’s fingers ran down the back of his neck, grabbing the collar and pulling him close. Turmoil dropped onto his knees and flipped Drift onto his back, twisted at the waist to keep his legs out of the way. One hand keeping Drift’s hands away and the other on his spike, Turmoil nudged his broad spike at his perfectly exposed valve. “I’m so glad you’re back, Deadlock.” he said, pushing himself inside, his girth drawing a loud moan from Drift.

“No! Ngh!” Drift yelled between slow thrusts. “Turmo-Ah! Ah!” He flinched and turned his head away as Turmoil fit his entire length into him, pushing uncomfortably hard into Drift’s valve to do so.

“Mghh,” Turmoil hummed, rocking his hips in an even but rough pace after bottoming out. “ohh yes, Deadlock.” Drift writhed under Turmoil, being fragged in a dark ship out in some nowhere area of space. “I’ll make a good Deception again out of you.”

Drift stayed quiet, moaning and grunting low in his throat as Turmoil overloaded into him, insides hot and sticky with his thick transfluid. He felt sick, and Turmoil cupped his face with both hands.

“I’ll never be a good Decepticon again, Turmoil.” He spat. “I won’t ever be a Decepticon again.”

“Maybe,” Turmoil said, gently. “but I can still try. If not, you can come back with a… different skillset.” He pinned Drift’s wrists again, the other slid down his neck, his chest, stopping to rest on his banded stomach.

* * *

 Drift spent most of his time tied up, hanging from the ceiling or chained to the floor. If he wasn’t alone in the dark, he was being fragged by Turmoil. Usually random outside of the sessions that were part of his preparations for recharging or after his ‘missions’, Drift tried to rest when he could.

He felt lucky when he was chained by his collar to the floor. Drift was able to get some rest. He laid down carefully, unable to really get back up and crotch still sore from where Turmoil had finally removed his modesty plating. The ship was cold, but Drift was appreciative that Turmoil was taking so long to come back from the city on the world they were visiting. Drift no longer felt bad if that was code for ‘Turmoil is slaughtering a city’, he wanted to have some time conscious not spent being Turmoil’s plaything, his transfluid depository, his pet.

Turmoil had given up on making Drift return to his Deadlock history, or even the name. He was just a pet, now.

Transfluid from the last fragging was drooling out of his valve. Drift couldn’t get any out of him with his fingers with hands bound behind him, and had to deal with the gross sensation. He tried to ignore it, and sleep.

Some time later, not enough time later, Turmoil returned on heavy steps with the sounds of something new with him. Drift sat up, lifting his head in time for a turbofox to turn around the corner, green lights glowing sharply. Connected to his chain leash was Turmoil.

“We’ve got a new crewmate, Drift.” He said, petting the turbofox on the head, and Drift could hear the panting. “His name is Delta, he was an old friend of mine’s guy, and he was looking to give him a new home. Told him I had room.”

Delta noticed Drift and bounded towards him, sniffing and licking his face. “So he’s going to be in what little space you let me have? I have to share with this… beast?”

“Catch on fast.” Turmoil said, hands on his hips. “I learned some interesting things about technofoxes. Did you know they share most of their CNA with us?”

Oh no.

“Really.” Drift said, flatly and unimpressed while Delta licked his chin.

“More than anything else from Cybertron.” Turmoil said. “I thought my pet could use a mate. Looks like he already likes you.”

Delta had his paws on Drift’s shoulders, sniffing all over. “He’s just getting to know me.”

“His erect spike says otherwise, pet.”

Drift whipped his head and sure enough, between the technofox’s legs was his spike out of its housing, bobbing with any movement made. He sat up more to throw Delta off, but Turmoil grabbed Drift by his chain, keeping him from sitting anymore upright.

“Eugh…” Drift muttered, feeling Delta stuff his nose in his valve, still filled with now-tacky transfluid. When Delta mounted him, Drift lost his balance and his chest hit the floor.

“I recommend you stay still.” Turmoil said. “The more you move, the longer this will take.”

Delta’s hips started jerking, his spike rubbing through Drift’s folds in an attempt to push in. “Turmoil, don’t do this. Don’t do this. Don’t let it frag me.”

“You know what you’re supposed to call me, pet.” Turmoil said, and Drift felt the pointy spike nearly hit its mark.

“…Sir. I don’t want to be fragged by a turbofox, Sir.” Drift said, feeling strangled.

“Tough.” Turmoil said, gruffly. “You had your chance to be a Con, a soldier, a person. You didn’t want it. Now you’re my pet, and my good pet, Delta, deserves a fun reward. You, however, do not.”

Drift tried and failed to press his thighs together, knowing it wouldn’t have done much good. Delta let out a bark when his spike slipped inside of Drift. Delta's hips snapped against Drift’s backside at a feverish pace. Turmoil kept a tight grip on his pet’s leash.

“Ahh! Ah! Nhhgh, nooughh..!” Drift groaned, chest to the ground, head turned to the side. He tried to pull away from Delta who had a grip around Drift’s thin waist. “Make h-him stop!” Drift squirmed under the turbofox, a harsh shiver going up his spine from being fucked by an animal. Drift drooled a little, groaning and his own spike pushed out of its housing and he overloaded onto the floor immediately.

Delta kept rutting hard and fast.

Turmoil pet Drift’s finial. “You’re being so good, taking that fox spike.”

“Nuh-, noo…” Drift whined. “Nooo…”

“You’re being a good boy.” Turmoil used his thumb to wipe away drool from Drift’s lip.

Delta panted against Drift’s back, forcing his entire length into his valve, getting a sharp grunt from Drift. “Hagh, Tu- Sir his spike is…”

“Shh, Delta is probably just knotting you.” Turmoil whispered while Delta went quiet. “Be good and take it quietly.”

The knot was huge. Drift could feel a burning stretch inside him, feeling stuffed full. He groaned, and Turmoil shushed him some more. “I-I think he-he is overloading..” Drift stammered, feeling something hot and wet fill his valve, being pushed and stretched to make room for all the fluid spilling into him. Drift’s hips moved, trying to alleviate the burn and pain and pull away from Delta, and he earned a quick swat to his backside. “Shh. Be good and stay still. Let Delta finish.”

Drift whined, feeling the spike throb in his tender valve with another overload and he was filled more and more. “Mmgh… ngh…”

Delta took long enough to pull his spike out that Turmoil had gotten himself a chair, actually leaving the pair alone for a moment. Drift tried to pull away, only to yelp when Delta refused to be pulled along. His knot was too big to pull out.

Turmoil waited close by and after far too long of a wait in Drift's opinion, Delta pulled himself out of Drift’s valve. He sat down to clean himself and Drift’s hips collapsed, panting and laying down on the floor.

Turmoil pushed a hand between Drift’s thighs, ignoring his pet’s whining and petting his valve. Drift and Turmoil both could tell Delta’s transfluid was sticky and thick, it wasn’t going to run out of Drift’s valve like Turmoil's. “Good boy, Delta.” He said, withdrawing his hand and helping Drift onto his knees and cupped his cheek. “Maybe you’ll have puppies, instead of my sparkling.”

“No,” Drift hiccuped. “no, not… don’t let him frag me again.”

“Fox puppies are good money right now.” Turmoil rubbed his thumb in a circle. “In fact, I know it won’t be mine, if this session took. You think I want a sparkling out here, doing what I’m doing? I’ve taken precautions.”

Drift lowered his head, Turmoil pulled his hand away and Drift looked at the mess between his thighs.

* * *

 Drift spent most of his time now with a cuff around his ankle, chained to a wall in Turmoil’s quarters. Not entirely comfortable with the lodgings, it was better than the lost and stray Cons he picked up trying to take a go at him. Delta, however, had been given a special collar that allowed him to open the door, making Drift’s valve available to him whenever he wanted.

Turmoil came in in the middle of a hard rutting session, Delta humping Drift as if his life depended on it. Drift kept himself on his hands and knees, rocking with each thrust and staring at Turmoil.  
“Good boy, letting Delta fuck you.” Turmoil cooed, using foreign words that were grating to hear when translated. He stepped over, and reached between his pets and tried to push fingertips into Drift’s valve. “You take his knot so well.”

“It still hurts,” Drift said, trying not to whine. It did. No matter how many times it happened, Drift never quite got used to it. “Ghh, he’s overloading again… that’s the third one, sir…”

“He’s a big guy, for his species.” Turmoil pet Delta down his back. “Which will hopefully lead to big pups.”

Drift hated any reminders that he was carrying, and bared his teeth in a scowl.

Delta pulled out of Drift and moved to his spot across the room, and Drift laid down on his back, thick transfluid clogging his valve. Turmoil’s was thin and runny, while Delta plugged his valve with his transfluids and Drifted hated that he missed Turmoil’s spike but he was exclusive to Delta for now.

He hated the hands on his rounded tummy. His displeased huff went ignored, Turmoil rubbed his belly in a circle, taking in the entire expanse. “I’ve called a friend up. We’re going to find out how many are in there today.”

Drift huffed again. He didn’t care to know. He didn’t care about the litter squirming around inside him, reminding him of their presence. He didn’t take interest in Turmoil’s excitement. Drift spent most of his time trying to forget he was carrying.

When their guest medic arrived, Drift was led on all fours out of Turmoil’s room for the first time in weeks and ordered to lay on the floor between Turmoil’s thighs, arms over his legs and back to his master’s stomach. “If you could hold his hands.” The medic said, situating himself between Drift’s legs to prevent kicks.

Drift made a small commotion about it, being difficult but Turmoil got their hands interlaced and held on tight. “Behave.” Turmoil warned.

Drift stared with a mix of anxiety and fear while the medic touched his stomach, pushing on him and pressing into his armor and studying his seams. “For his frame type, he’s getting a little big, already. This guy isn’t built for carrying, not that he can’t but multiples are a different story.”

“So he does have more than one?” Turmoil asked. Drift felt his spark sank at the news, but he already knew. His tank was too busy, he felt too much movement for it to be just one inside him.

“Definitely.” The medic said with a smile. “Let’s find out how many.” He pulled out a small handheld scanner, and pressed it to the curve of Drift’s lower stomach, and Drift squirmed. It was cold and pressing hard into his armor. “Including this guy’s, I’m reading four healthy spark signatures.”

“Three pups.” Turmoil massaged Drift’s worn knuckles. “You did good.”

The medic put away the small scanner, and then lubed up his fingers. He put one hand on Drift’s stomach and the other gently pushed fingers into Drift’s valve, getting a gasp and a small kick from him. “Progressing well, he’s definitely due soon. He’ll get a little bigger,” the medic said, drying his hand before rubbing Drift’s stomach and ignoring Drift kicking against the floor. “but he should be able to handle three just fine. Keep an eye on him, other than that I can’t see any restrictions you need to apply.”

“Thank you.” Turmoil said. “Sorry if there was anything in his valve. I let the turbofox have constant access to this valve.”

“Staying active is good for anyone of any size class carrying. No matter what they’re carrying.” The medic said with a wink.

“There’s a card by the door with your payment.” Turmoil said, the medic nodded and left quietly, and Turmoil kept Drift in his lap, letting go of his hands to reach under his arms and hold his belly. “We got three pups in here.”

“Are you going to make me do this again?” Drift asked. His spark was pumping, scared of the answer.

“Yeah.” Turmoil replied. “I’m planning on a few times. We’ll see how I feel after you’ve had nine or ten turbofox pups.”

“And then?”

“Maybe by then I might want to settle down. Use you to make a sparkling of our own.” He said, hands sliding lower to palm the lowest curve to Drift’s gravid tummy. “You look so good, with your belly sticking out like this.”

“I hate it.” Drift said.

“Only because you’re not used to carrying.” Turmoil said into his audio, feeling movement under the armor. “You’ll get used to it. I don’t expect you to love anything pumped into you, anything you push out of you, but you’ll get used to carrying. I want you to get used to it, since you’ll be doing this for awhile.”

Drift shakily put his hands on his belly too. The movement going on in his busy tank caused him to recoil. He felt certain then he would never get used to things growing inside him, using his body, moving inside him, always reminding him of his life as Turmoil’s prized breeding pet.

* * *

 Drift whined through the pain, kneeling with Turmoil behind him rubbing his back. “I’m not letting you on the bed.”

“It hurts.” Drift whined. “Please, sir?” Drift tried to sway Turmoil in his favor. He didn’t care if it was against who he was, everything hurt too much.

“No, pets stay on the floor.” Turmoil said with a pat to his aft, before he got up. He checked the chain around Drift’s ankle to make sure it was secure. “Delta’s locked up in another room so he won’t bother you, and my bed is put away so you have more room.”

“I want the bed.” Drift whined into the floor, but Turmoil took his place in the comfortable chair he brought in for himself. Drift was in labor.

“I’m not getting the bed out.” Turmoil said, pulling out reading material. “Just focus on what you’re doing.”

Hours passed and the pain only got worse, but Turmoil came to Drift’s side when his noises changed. Drift was attempting to push. Turmoil reached between his thighs under his aft and brushed his knuckles against the underside of Drift’s spike, now modded to always be outside its housing for Turmoil to grab and make Drift docile through an easy overload and slipped into his valve. “Mnn,” Drift let out a pained moan.

“Push,” Turmoil said. Drift pushed and gasped loudly, and Turmoil felt something against his fingertip. “yes, just like that.” He pulled his hand out. “Push again.”

Drift pushed, jaw clenched and he felt the first pup inside his valve. “Oh Primus ohPrimusohPrimus.”Drift spoke rapidly. Turmoil gave another order to push, and another, and he held out his hand when Drift started crowning. One more push, and the pup was halfway out. “One more, it’s almost there.” Turmoil rubbed Drift’s hip with his other hand.

“It hurts!” Drift cried out. “Ah! Ah, it hurts!”

Turmoil could feel Drift shake. “Push, right now.” Drift’s shoulders rose, and the pup slipped from his valve into Turmoil’s hand. Drift let out a strained noise, and immediately laid on his side, unable to lay on his stomach how he wanted and panted.

Turmoil cleaned the turbofox puppy while Drift rested. It was already up and attempting to walk when Drift pushed himself back onto his knees. “I feel the next one coming…” he said, holding his stomach and parting his thighs. “Ooh,” he winced.

With a couple of strained pushes, Drift again had another pup lodged in his valve. He trembled and gasped and Turmoil cupped his valve, ordering him to push. It took two, but Drift managed and the second was free.

Drift tried to take another chance to rest but the final pup in him was descending fast. Already loose and slick from recent couplings with Delta and the first two of the litter, the third was born quickly.  
Turmoil gathered all three and held them up to Drift. “They all look like you. They’re perfect.” He whispered. Drift refused eye-contact. “I’ve got some calls to make.”

“Take them with you.” Drift said, laying down and rubbing his still-round stomach. “I’ll just lay here and get ready for you and Delta to force me through this again.”

Turmoil leaned in to press his forehead to Drift’s. “You’re the good boy who bends over and lets Delta stuff your valve with his spike, fuck you, fill you with his thick transfluid that puts multiple pups in that belly.”

“you’ll restrain me if I don’t.”

“Absolutely, but you always had that option.” Turmoil said. “You never took it. You’re broken, Drift. You’re a good boy who bends over when told.” Turmoil stood up, arms full of yipping puppies and he left the room to call prospective buyers and show the tiny turbofoxes to Delta.

Drift laid on the floor, idly rubbing his stomach with disdain and realizing Turmoil was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got an ask on tumblr, it led to continuing this and finishing off with a happy ending!

“You gotta push harder.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Keep going.”

“I can’t…”

Turmoil sat in his chair with Drift on his knees between his legs, thighs parted and arms draped over dark broad thighs for support as he shook, his eighth turbofox pup in his career as Turmoil’s ‘business partner’ stuck in his valve. Both puppies born earlier were old enough to clumsily bounce around the room, and Turmoil was displeased with how long Drift was taking. “You have two more in there.” He said. “I already have a buyer for all four of these pups, but he isn’t going to wait forever. You took long enough as is.”

Drift huffed with exhaustion. “Not my fault there’s four, not my fault they’re big, and not my fault I’m past my due date.” He groaned suddenly, face scrunched up and pushing through a contraction and the turbofox pup fell between Drift’s thighs, squirming and yipping.

Turmoil scooped it up, cleaning fluid and static off its armor inches from Drift’s face. He still rejected every one Delta put in him. “Looks like we got a set of identical twins.” Turmoil said, activating communications. “Hey, you still here? Great. Yeah, he’s having the puppies right now, we’ve got three so far. Yeah, just one more. He’s doing fine.” Drift rolled his optics, waiting for the next contraction. “He had a set of identical twins, they’re real big and heavy. I want an extra nine hundred shanix for them. Yeah, for both. Agreed. Wait at the location, I’ll bring them when I’ve got them all.”

Turmoil ended the call. “How much are you getting for this litter?” Drift asked, desperate for the distraction.

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Haven’t I made you enough money yet?”

“You could get me every shanix and it wouldn’t be enough.” Turmoil cupped his face and watched as he felt the next contraction rip through Drift, who choked down a yell. He leaned forward a little, reaching a hand down between his legs to rub Drift’s belly, face pressed to his neck. “Don’t ask to be retired. Having puppies is what’s keeping you alive. Now push."

* * *

 Drift lounged in his corner, chained by both ankles now. He still ached, but he was happy the sensation of movement inside him was gone.

The happiness was, as always, hollow. He knew in a few days Delta would be brought into the room and Turmoil would watch him get fucked by the turbofox and carry yet another heavy litter of big squirmy pups. His master would hold Delta and Drift together, making sure his painfully huge knot inflated and Drift’s valve was constantly filled with transfluid. The medic would come back, inspect him so clinically and push his hand into his valve and talked to Turmoil about mundane things so casually as if he weren’t there. After confirmation of conception, Turmoil would return to fragging him hard every morning.

Constantly carrying and always being chained had sapped away so much of Drift’s energy. There was no fighting back. It was easy to bend over, to part his legs and get stuffed with spike on the daily.

Drift preferred Delta. He could reach something close to sleep while he had Drift knotted for an hour.

The door opened while Drift inspected his hips, and Drift looked up from on his knees at Turmoil. “Hello sir.” he said, out of habit. When Turmoil’s plating pulled away and his spike slipped out, straight hard and bouncy, Drift adjusted himself; On his heels, legs parted, hands holding his knees wide apart.

“Good boy.” Turmoil said. He knelt down, and pushed fingers into Drift’s now always-sticky valve. Drift winced, still achy but Turmoil didn’t become any gentler. His fingers drew out, sliding up to the hot node under Drift’s spike, under the still-remaining bulge in his armor. Drift tried to hide the gasp that slipped out. Turmoil pushed two fingers against his pet, making lazy circles. Drift’s thighs twitched on either side of the hand fondling him, lights flickering.

Turmoil hummed with amusement at Drift’s soft noises. “I know what you want.” He moved to rubbing Drift up and down, the side of his hand sometimes brushing his spike. “I think after today you deserve a good overload.” Drift’s vents opened, fans running and engine choking to avoid showing Turmoil any enjoyment.

He got so hot so fast, and was so disgusted by Turmoil’s treatment. His fans kicked on and he jerked against the fingers. Turmoil’s wrist started flicking side to side, and Drift let out a breathy moan. “There it is.” Turmoil said, rubbing faster, Drift could hear the wet noises and his hips rocked against his will. “Hah! Ahhnngh!” Drift shut his optics and groaned picturing that it was Ratchet he felt. He shook and reached the point of oversensitivity. While the fluid from his spike was minimal and ran down the underside of his cord, he gushed the same silvery contents from his valve. It splattered to the floor, coated his inner thighs and Turmoil’s hand, dripping to pool around his feet.

Still gasping and twitching from his overload, Turmoil grabbed Drift by his wide hips and pulled him close, dwarfing his pet in size and prodded his spike against his valve. Drift arched his hips, looking nervously over his chest. Turmoil then leaned back and pulled Drift into his lap, making his collared pet straddle him. He gripped Drift’s thighs, rubbing circles in the leftovers with his thumbs. His spike ground against Drift’s. “Get on me. Now.”

Drift did as he was told, gently taking Turmoil’s spike in his hand and brushing his slick, sensitive valve against the head, rocking his hips. He sank onto the thick spike, grimacing but taking the full length. Turmoil moaned, no attempt made to hold back and Drift went to work, bouncing and gyrating his hips until he brought to Turmoil to his heavy and noisy climax. Turmoil had his hands on Drift’s hips so tightly he left dents on the faded and chipped metal.

His spike, despite getting relaxed, was still big enough to ache when it was left lodged in his valve.

After coming down from his high, Drift was ordered off his spike. Silvery transfluid drooled thickly out of his valve but Drift had learned to keep his hands off his array so long as Turmoil was around. Turmoil withdrew his spike, and slowly got up, moving to a cabinet and pulling out some blue energon. “Here,” he handed it to Drift, who stared. “It’s not a trick. You need fuel.”

“What’s the occasion?” Drift asked, taking the thin vial and taking a sip. “Are you proposing?”

“No.” Turmoil said.

“Yeah, but you don’t ever give me the nice stuff unless you make me drink it out of your valve.” Drift took another sip. “Spit it out.”

“I’m trying something new.”

“Kindness?”

Turmoil let out a displeased grunt. “You’ve had ten pups by Delta, now.”

“Are you getting another turbofox?” A second turbofox wasn’t even on his list of the worst things that could happen to him.

“No.” Turmoil got himself some energon. “Remember those precautions I mentioned? So I could frag you and not worry about throwing off our puppy schedule?”

“Y…Are you thinking o-“

“I had that removed days ago.” Turmoil said. Drift felt his spark sink into his stomach, burning and spinning. He put a hand on his stomach, feeling sick. “I’m ready, and you’re available.”

“Are… you sure this is a good idea?” Drift asked, trying to plant doubt.

Turmoil injected his energon into his arm. “I have multiple sources of income, and your last litter was extra profitable. We can afford you taking time off to have my sparkling and I’m ready for that responsibility. Now is a perfect time.”

Drift’s hands shook as he pounded down the rest of his energon.

Their first sparkling. Something non-bestial, something, someone not so easy to reject.

* * *

 The beeping from Turmoil’s navigational console woke everyone up. Delta barked loudly, giving Drift a headache and Turmoil rolled out of his bed, charging out of the room as Delta ran in underfoot . Drift could hear Turmoil trip, still in a half-sleep state while Delta tried to mount him. Since Turmoil wasn’t around, Drift pushed Delta off his back, keeping his hips low and valve blocked by his heels.  
“No,” Drift hissed. “stay off.” Delta moved to be in front of Drift and licked his jaw before sniffing his bulging belly. “Yeah, for once it’s not yours.” Drift said, petting Delta. “…Kinda wish it was, though.”

Delta calmed down and Drift did as well, the turbofox laying down against Drift’s legs. Turmoil returned and grabbed a gun off his wall. He pushed something into Drift’s mouth and before he could spit it out, the ball gag magnetized. Drift shook his head, jaw uncomfortable. “You. Stay here and keep quiet. I’m locking you in this room. Delta, with me.”

Just like that, Drift was in a dark quiet room, chained and alone with a sparkling in his belly. He looked at the protruding curve, still new and horrifying. Fear settled in his spark, so he laid down on his side by the small floor vent, the only source of light he had. He could hear distant barking and Turmoil’s heavy steps. Very little made Turmoil run.

Whatever signal the ship picked up was bad news for him. Potentially bad news for Drift.

Then he realized: It could be Autobots.

He realized his freedom could be storming the ship.

Metal slamming against metal startled Drift and he peeked through the vent. A flash of autobot red whipped by. “Where is Drift?!”

" _Ratchet?_ " Drift thought, he recognized the voice and his spark swelled. " _Ratchet!_ " The doctor was no match for Turmoil and Drift tried to scream through the gag, through the vent, desperate to get his attention.

“I killed that traitor long ago!” Turmoil lied. “You were too slow, you old scrap. You should thank me, he turned on the Decepticons and turned on the Neutrals, what makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to Autobots?”

“He…” Ratchet stammered. Drift tried to scream again. “he was…”

“Filth.” Turmoil answered. A dark grey body blocked Drift’s poor view of Ratchet, hearing the sound of metal crunch and pained gasps Drift winced. Turmoil won. “Get comfortable. You’ll be staying with me awhile.”

Drift stared at the dazed Ratchet. Turmoil returned and raked lines across Ratchet’s chest, eliciting a scream. Drift looked away when Turmoil bashed nails into his elbow joints.  
He feared that unlike himself, Ratchet was going to die. He began blaming himself. If he hadn’t run away. If he hadn’t filled his life with mistakes.

He gagged as his thoughts grew more and more grim.

Nothing was going to be the same, even if they managed an escape. Drift had told himself when he thought he might still escape that he could sometimes pretend he never birthed turbofox puppies. He just had to never ever tell anyone. But with a sparkling growing inside him now, tummy sticking out with a smooth gravid curve, Drift became acutely aware there was no hiding this.

Drift shook. He felt sick, thinking that maybe he didn’t want to leave. Not with Ratchet, not like this. His hands lightly touched his stomach.

This sparkling was the worst thing to happen to him.

* * *

 Drift was bent over, thighs parted and belly big enough to change Drift’s balance. Delta was panting hard, thrusting hard and trying to drive his pointy spike into Drift’s valve. Drift could hear electricity zapping on the floor under him. Ratchet held back screams at every electrocution, only interrupted by a sickening banging and cracking. Drift hated the sound of armor cracking, a sensation Turmoil enjoyed immensely.

Drift grunted, magnetized gag muffling his noise. So long as Ratchet was on the ship, he was gagged and Turmoil injected his energon into his inner thigh. Delta shoved his spike into Drift, rutting away with abandon. Drift groaned sickly with every thrust. Delta fit all of himself inside, and his knot swelled, locking him inside. Drift shivered, resting his head on the ground and holding his belly. His spark froze at every painful noise he heard from Ratchet. He tried to wrack his panicking mind for anything to help him, distracted by the sparkling moving in his tank and the fat knot stretching his valve. Turmoil’s… Drift had taken to calling it ‘spawn’, kicked and Drift shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ll be back later.” He heard Turmoil say. He didn’t take long to return, hands covered in energon, no doubt bled from Ratchet’s frame. He looked at Drift. “Knotted?”

Drift nodded. He flinched from another kick from the baby and a throb from Delta’s spike. He pushed himself back up onto his palms and Turmoil took the chance to put his palm to the side of Drift’s swell, slowly moving to the center and smearing energon on this armor. Another kick, and Drift shut his optics. He knew Turmoil felt it.

“It’s a little early for movement like that.” Turmoil chuckled darkly. “I think he’s taking after me… by that I mean he is going to be big. Do you have a big tank sparkling in there?” Drift couldn’t answer, and that was why Turmoil was laying the pet talk on heavy. “Huh? Got a big tank baby in there kicking you?”

Drift whined, hips wiggling. It felt like Delta’s knot was tearing him apart, his valve was filled with burning hot transfluid, he had an active sparkling in his belly and Turmoil’s pet talk was extra humiliating when he couldn’t talk at all. He whined louder, optics shut.

“I think it’s time to call the doctor.”

* * *

 “What do you mean?” Turmoil asked.

“You just have a sparkling with accelerated reflexes.” The medic said, hand on Drift’s belly, between his legs while Turmoil’s held his hands. “It’s a not a bad thing, he'll likely even out by the time he's born. Also,” he felt in between Drift’s seams, poking soft spots. “He’s still quite small. Tanks grow slowly. He’ll be fine, but your pet will get very heavy and uncomfortable towards the end. You called me in incredibly early, Turmoil. I’ve seen this guy bigger with Delta’s pups.”

“No harm in making sure.” Turmoil said. “This one is mine, after all.” He let go of one hand to rub Drift’s belly. “He doesn’t look it but he is a pretty good boy.”

“The ball gag says otherwise.” The medic snickered.

“That’s related to my captive.” Turmoil said, still focused on belly rubs. “He came looking for my good boy and now more than ever I need to make sure he stays.”

“Want me to still fix up that guy?” the medic asked, getting a nod from Turmoil. The medic left to do his work, leaving Turmoil to cuddle Drift.

“I’m excited.” Turmoil said, feeling another kick, and Drift leaned his head against his master’s chest. “I know you’re uncomfortable,” Turmoil’s hand slid lower, cupping Drift’s tummy. “but it will be worth it.”

The medic finished his word and was bid goodbye, and Turmoil took Drift’s chain leash in hand. Drift crawled slowly by Turmoil’s legs, feeling the weight his sparkling pulled on him. He knew Turmoil just liked how his baby bump was much more noticeable when crawling. He was led back to the bedroom, ankles secured in their cuffs and Turmoil returned his hands to that bump.

Drift refused to look at him while he fawned and pet him. Hands going lower, Turmoil began petting his spike instead, making Drift hard. Drift sat there and let Turmoil pump him until he flinched, breathing hard and overloading, sticky fluids coating Turmoil’s hand. Turmoil’s sticky hand started rubbing his own spike, other hand slipping into his valve. He moaned, and Drift stayed still and watched until Turmoil overloaded onto his face and chest. He sighed contentedly, and with a glance to Drift’s belly rather than Drift himself, Turmoil rolled into bed.

Drift wiped what he could off with his hand and onto the floor, and laid down on his side to sleep. More kicks kept waking him, and then something jabbed him annoyingly. He sat up, and a metal rod was sticking up through the vent.

“Get up.” Ratchet said. “I know you’re there, Drift. Turmoil’s doctor didn’t know to keep you secret.”

Drift took the rod, recognizing it for a heat pen. He melted his cuffs until he could tear them quietly. Then he used it to break the gag. “Ratchet,” he whispered, voice raspy.

“Break the vent and get down here.”

“I…” Drift looked at the vent and then his bump. “I won’t fit. The door is quiet enough but we might still have to run.”

“Do it. There’s a pod ship attached. That’s our way out.”

Drift opened Turmoil’s bedroom door manually, nearly silent and he slipped out. He wobbled on his legs, but he made it down the stairs.

And there he was. Beat up and hurt but there was Ratchet. He turned, smiled, and took Drift by the wrist. Pulling him onto the ship, the door locked behind them and the ship disengaged, taking off into orbit, no doubt waking Turmoil in their wake.

“Couple of questions.” Ratchet said, steering. “Can he follow us in that clunker?”

“It’s heavily modded cause of sustaining so much damage.” Drift answered. “So, no.”

“Why did he only have one pod?”

“He always been willing to leave crew behind. He was in the middle of buying a second… he used to keep two, a long time ago.”

“How long were you there?”

“Almost a year and a half.”

“Hm. I was going to ask you how you weren’t killed by Turmoil of all cons, but…” Ratchet trailed off, and Drift sank in his seat. “I noticed the... quite obvious answer.”

“Yeah.” Drift gripped the armrests tightly.

“Year and a half… You’re too small. This is your first, isn’t it, kid?”

Drift knew he had to be honest. Ratchet would just find out later from a medical inspection that his carrying protocols had been on nearly constantly the entire year and a half. “Sort of.” Drift said quietly.

“Just what do you mean by that?”

“Turmoil…” Drift paused, organizing his thoughts. “used me in a… breeding program. I… with… turbofoxes.”

“That shouldn’t be possible.” Ratchet said, disbelief and horror in his voice. “That shouldn’t work.”

“I gave birth to ten puppies on that ship, Ratchet, and Turmoil did it to me for profit.” Ratchet grimaced at ‘puppies’, expecting cybertronian terms like ‘sparkling’. Drift covered his face. “I had ten… and now I have Turmoil’s sparkling in here. Ratchet, please tell me you can get it out.”

“Let’s worry about getting home first.” Ratchet said. “Try to get some rest.”

* * *

 Drift covered his face with his hands as Ratchet gently pushed lubed fingers into his valve. “I’m sorry,” Ratchet apologized quietly. He and Drift were in his new clinic, set up comfortably on Cybertron, with less illegality surrounding his practice. “this is the quickest and most accurate way.”

“I know.” Drift mumbled into his palms. Ratchet could feel the scarring just inside his valve and poked at the ceiling of his valve.

Ratchet put his hand on Drift’s tummy and looked at his scanner, plugged into Drift’s side. Then he quietly pulled his hand out, dried off, unplugged the scanner and sat down. “I’m sorry, Drift. It’s far too late for removal.” Drift choked. “You’ll be carrying to term.”

“I don’t care if it’s high risk.”

“I do. It’s also illegal and a death wish at this point, Drift.” Ratchet put a hand on Drift’s shoulder, mindful of the bent pauldron. “I know it hurts but I won’t do it. You can give the sparkling away after it’s born, carrying doesn’t mean you have to keep it.”

Drift looked at Ratchet, still laying on his back. “You wouldn’t hate me for it?”

“No. Drift, I want you to be happy.” He rubbed the shoulder now. “It is your choice, though, and you have a lot of time to decide.”

Drift gagged, and the sparkling kicked him.

“Would I be able to, you know… later?”

“Drift,” Ratchet’s face turned sad. “What you’ve been through, physically, emotionally, mentally… my medical recommendation is that you never carry again after this sparkling.”

Drift choked, but nodded in understanding.

“I... want to make it clear now, Ratchet grabbed Drift’s hand with both of his. “this does nothing to change my feelings towards you. I’ll be whatever it is you need. A friend. A shoulder. A family bot.”  
Drift nodded again, smiling for the first time in a long time.

* * *

 “You’re really okay with this?” Drift asked, moving furniture around. Ratchet laughed.

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.” He said. “We've lived together for months, now. Tomorrow we’ll officiate our status as conjux, and week or two from now we’ll have a bouncing baby bot on our hands.”

“I think I need more proof.” Drift said, leaning against the old desk, taking a breath.

“I think you need to take it easy.” Ratchet said, hugging Drift from behind, hands wrapping around his waist and rubbing his huge tummy. “You need to rest, for this little fellow right here.” Ratchet gave a few gentle pats.

Drift spun around in the loose embrace, smiling wide. Ratchet kept his hands on his huge bump, fingertips bouncing across wide seams. “Little? You’re joking right? Look at how huge he’s made me.” Drift put his hands over Ratchet’s.

Ratchet rubbed lazy big circles across the banded armor. “I love how you look.”

“That tickles.” Drift laughed. “Are you going to be this handsy at the ceremony?”

“Not at all, Drift.” He said. “Only in private. Also, ‘ceremony’, It’s just Wheeljack, Ironhide, and Windblade to officiate and be witnesses.”

Drift kissed Ratchet. “Fine. I will do what heavy bots do and lounge on the couch.” Ratchet held Drift’s hands and helped him to sit down, then lifted his legs so he could lay down. Drift made sports commentary on Ratchet’s furniture moving skills until space was made for the sparkling, just in time for their guests tomorrow.

* * *

 Drift kept shifting in bed, waking up Ratchet. “Having trouble sleeping?” he asked, getting a groan from Drift.

“He’s just so big and heavy.” Drift said.

“Is that all?” Ratchet asked, eyebrow cocked. Drift grinned sheepishly.

“I’m having contractions.”

“Do we need to go to the clinic?” Ratchet asked, reaching over to rub Drift’s side. “You should have told me immediately.”

“Mmgh,” Drift groaned. “you were asleep.”

“You can wake me up for going into labor, Drift.”

“I’m still a ways off from having this sparkling.” Drift said. “I’m kind of a pro at giving birth. I’ll know when we need to relocate to the clinic, okay Ratchet?”

“...Roll back over,” Ratchet said, and Drift did so, rubbing his belly. “there’s no way I can go back to sleep now, but I can give you a nice back massage in bed.” Drift’s engine purred as Ratchet’s hands got to work. It did little to ease his early contractions but it was a meltingly lovely and welcome distraction.

They both had fallen asleep for a nice nap, until a harsh contraction ripped through Drift. “Ghhk!”

“Is it time to move yet?” Ratchet asked. “I felt you wake up several times, how close are they, now?”

“Close enough,” Drift laughed nervously. “let’s go.”

Ratchet had Drift’s feet against his shoulders, the carrying bot panting and hot. “Am I a-a-almost there?” Ratchet was gentle pushing into Drift’s valve, feeling around the ceiling. He was as open as possible.

“Start pushing, Drift.” Ratchet said, with a tired smile. “Let’s get this sparkling out of you.” Drift nodded and pushed, curling forward with his optics shut and straining. “That was good, a few more just like that.” Another push, and their sparkling was exiting his gestation tank. Drift spent a moment hollering, before quietly curling into another push. “Oh Primus he’s in there he’s right there ah ah ow…”

“Two more.” Ratchet said. “Push!”

With one push, The tank sparkling was almost halfway free. With the second and final, he dropped free into Ratchet’s waiting hands. Drift collapsed, panting and engine roaring while Ratchet laughed and cleaned the newspark some before putting him on Drift’s chest. “Oh!” Drift exclaimed tiredly. “He’s so cute!”

The little squawking tankformer looked like a bulkier Drift in shape, mostly dark grey with big blue optics. He had Drift’s face, not his sire’s.

Ratchet leaned in, drying the tiny guy off further while Drift cooed and brushed the sparkling’s cheek. “He’s real handsome, Drift.” He kissed Drift on the hand. “You did so good.”

“Hello, Sabot.” Drift said. Named after sabot rounds, a type of ammunition Turmoil hated and had given him problems for weeks once way back in the early war days. Ratchet loved the reasoning. “We’re your parents, and you're the best thing to happen to us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMU at 0palheart.tumblr.com! I love messages and prompts!

**Author's Note:**

> HMU at 0palheart.tumblr.com, i love asks and suggestions!


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